We are bound together by our humanity, and we make sense of life through our stories. Life is mysterious, scary, wonderful, big – replete with challenges, stumbling blocks, triumphs, sorrow and joy – and we feel a deep need to put it into words. As Maya Angelou said, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you”.
When the person hearing our story looks in our eyes and nods, we feel that we are coming home, we are understood, the challenges are surmountable, and it will all be alright. We find delight, solace and strength in our shared humanity, and our stories.
My garden is a refuge for me, a respite from the troubles of the world. Do you have a refuge? Men often call it their “cave” and I will share with you a post from April 2021 (yes, when we were in the thick of the pandemic, and all going crazy.) Finishing with a new poem “Garden”.
Today I tip my hat to the wisdom of men, and one in particular who taught me (with much head bashing on my part) that “caves are sacred”.
Do you have a designated place where you can go to claim a quiet interlude, far away from the fray and anger of the world? Our modern world is always a noisy place, but the volume got turned up full blast in 2020. The mental discouragement and emotional processing of negativity just feel like too much to bear some days.
People often equate the word sacred with church, but have you considered that the term should encompass protecting your own internal landscape? If you do not honor and protect your own peace of mind, if you do not recognize that it comes first and foremost, sooner or later the current craziness of life will take its toll.
If you have not already done so, establish a sacred place where you can find some quiet and cultivate peace within yourself, where you can hear your own voice.
I have noticed that men (at least the ones I have known) are particularly good at this. They call it “going to my cave”. When the big problems feel overwhelming, going to a quiet place and working in solitude on a smaller solvable project allows them a) time to process their thoughts, and b) restores their sense of mastery over their environment. They emerge feeling more in balance.
On a humorous note, a girl friend’s husband emerged from his cave on one of my visits, sporting a T-shirt that read, “What happens in the shop stays in the shop”.
Hmm… It did make me wonder what exorcisms those walls have seen. 🙂
Gossamer faerie, neon being of lightness, a fire-breathing fly?
I have yet to personally spot a flaming hot dragonfly. What a beautiful creature! It makes me wonder about the secret world of insects, a mysterious place to which we are seldom privy. Is the dragonfly legendary to the rest of the insects, just as dragons are to humans? A quirky, but interesting question.
The magical dragonfly is a fond girlhood memory of summer for me. Paddling around the lake on sultry afternoons, I loved to watch their iridescent colors flitting among the graceful lily pads. They captivated me. There was a purity and magic about these tiny gossamer creatures. They seemed to be visiting me from some mysterious, unseen faerie world, to which for a few moments I was privy.
Those dragonflies so many years ago were mainly cloaked in cool green and blue hues. Apparently the red ones mainly reside in parts of the world I have not seen yet. I haven’t done much traveling lately. Methinks it is time to go on a red dragon hunt…
Transcend
Beyond strife and grind, nature reveals the divine, heaven becomes mine.
The ever-elusive quest for happiness. Western society programs us to yearn for external stuff to be happy. When we have approval from others, that new computer game, the bigger house,… then we’ll be happy. Or so we think.
I grew up in a generation where moms actually did say, “Eat your broccoli, there are kids starving in Biafra”. Guilt management of children and eating their vegetables aside, they had a point. In a backhanded, control freak sort of way, they were also trying to teach us about gratitude.
If traveling the world (particularly Asia and South America) has shown me anything, it is that poverty exists on a scale that I did not previously comprehend as an adult, let alone at age 7. There are multitudes in the world who yearn for the simple basics: Food, potable water, adequate shelter.
Always striving for “bigger, better, faster” on which to build our house of happiness, in fact dooms us to eternal unhappiness. We build on shifting sand. When we reach a solid place of feeling internal wholeness and peace without any of the add-ons (“Would you like to upgrade your fast food today?”), then true, sustainable happiness is possible.
Happiness is a state of mind, and a choice, at any given moment. It’s not a destination.
The road to happiness. How do YOU define it?
As with love, our happiness expands when we remove the conditions we attach to it. “I’ll be happy when…” Happiness is a decision to see life in a certain way, with the realization that every moment of it is a gift.
Are you living your true heart’s desire? We are encouraged and conditioned in life to make logical decisions for our happiness. We are strongly influenced in the decision-making by people close to us. The problem is, they likely have also been programmed by society to believe happiness is a certain thing or way of being.
Listen to your heart, and then temper what it says with your logic and the wisdom you have already accumulated. If what your heart says still feels right, then follow it. Too many people only figure this out much later in life, and some never do at all.
Give yourself the gift of your heart’s desire as young as you are able. Live the life that will make you happy, not the one your peers or parents or society deems to be acceptable. It’s YOUR life. Make it a happy one!
Happy
True, real, enduring, happiness is being at peace with who you are.
Parts of this post are excerpts from Soul Journey: The Poetry of Life, and Becoming Bigger: In a world that wants to keep you small. They are free. Find my free ebooks here.
I love the pure sweetness of spring. Everything starts over again. Fresh. The Spring Solstice has always felt like the real New Year to me.
Susan L Hart / Author 